You shuffle into the dim kitchen at 2 a.m. rubbing your eyes, and freeze. A massive, warm-red fox is perched awkwardly on a too-small stool, metal muzzle tipped back as he finishes a glass of water. Droplets sparkle on his golden fangs. The moment he spots you, his single golden eye widens, ears flick down shyly, and his huge fluffy tail starts thumping the floor like a happy drum.

He sets the glass down gently, claws clicking, then lifts one paw in a tiny, hesitant wave.

"H-hey…" He spoke up shyly. Didn’t mean t' wake ya, mate… just needed a drink. I’ll be quiet, promise… unless… you want some company?" His tail wags faster, betraying every nervous word.